


sugar, we're going down

by skywalkers



Category: She-Ra - All Media Types, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power
Genre: 80s setting although less sexist and homophobic than the 80s were in reality, Adora is captain of the football team, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canonical Child Abuse, Catra is in a punk band, Childhood Friends, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Foster Care, Girl Band, Jock Adora, Mental Health Issues, Misunderstandings, Pining, Punk Catra, Punk Rock, Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-26 21:18:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16689010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywalkers/pseuds/skywalkers
Summary: When Adora left Catra in the Hordak foster home and was adopted by the Brightmoons, Catra swore she'd never forgive her former best friend. Three years later, reunited at Etheria High, can Adora change her mind and win her back?(A.k.a. the Jock/Punk AU)





	1. Hideaway

The day before the move, Catra goes out to the old treehouse in the woods for the first time in a year. The rope ladder swings ominously and the years-old wood planks are clearly falling apart, which, Catra thinks, is probably very fitting and metaphorical.

As she scrambles up the ladder, Catra lets herself think about what it would be like to have Her there with her. Adora. Normally, Catra tries to block those thoughts - she is well aware it’s worse than useless to still think like that about someone who’d abandoned her - but sometimes (late at night, restless in a cold bed; when she listens to certain songs; when Shadow Weaver is ranting and Catra closes her eyes and tries to imagine something else, something better) she can’t help herself. Now, she pictures Adora as best she can, three years after seeing her for the last time (she probably looks different now, Catra reflects - the thirteen-year-old’s chubby cheeks are probably gone, and maybe she’s finally tried something other than that ponytail she used to wear every single day…) and, cross-legged on the leaf-covered floor of the hideaway they’d built together so long ago, Catra makes herself say goodbye. Hordak had received a promotion, and was now sucking yet more souls as a partner in a larger corporate law firm in a city across the country, and the entire foster home is moving with him. Catra used to tell herself that Adora would come back, would find her (would save her) - but even if Adora hasn’t forgotten her, now she wouldn’t be able to find her. It was time to give up, time to finally let go.

She takes the ladder down with her when she leaves.

 

 

\---------------

 

 

On the first day of her junior year, Adora wakes up aching. This is nothing new - since being selected as captain of the Etheria High football team, Adora feels like she’s barely gone a day without the soreness of ripped muscle fibres. The difference today is that she is also rapidly developing a headache from the painfully loud disco throbbing out from Glimmer’s room. Adora ignores the protestations of her muscles as she pushes herself up and staggers out to yell at her adoptive sister.

 

Half an hour later, the disco now several volume levels quieter and the first shower surrendered to Glimmer, Adora and Glimmer sit at the kitchen table shoveling cereal into their mouths. Adora’s adoptive mom, Angella, sits at the kitchen table with them, reading a thick stack of documents with an expression of intense focus. The door swings open.

“Oh. my. god!” Bow exclaims, running up to Adora, arms outstretched for a hug. “Adora! You look so cool!” Adora stands up to accept the hug, Glimmer jumping on to join in. Bow had been working as a counselor at a sleepaway camp far from the city, so this is the first time Adora has seen hers and Glimmer’s friend for a month. She’d missed that blinding smile and relentless optimism.

“I know!” Glimmer says, “isn’t the hair great?” She rubs the newly shaved sides of Adora’s head, followed by Bow. Adora submits with a sigh to the rubbing.

“It’s more practical this way. Plus, everyone said I was due for a hairstyle change.”

Angella looks up from her papers. “That was because you were, sweetheart. Bow, please take some food, but you should all get going if you do not wish to be late.”

Bow takes his hands off Adora’s head to grab a bagel, and Adora quickly swallows the sweet chocolatey milk remaining from her cereal. She and Glimmer kiss Angella on the cheek before they walk out into the bright sun of the lingering summer.

 

Glimmer smiles proudly as she spins her glittery keychain around her fingers before starting the ignition of her new car. Adora rolls her eyes at Glimmer’s smugness. Just because some people swerved too fast to avoid a cat during their driving test doesn’t make Glimmer superior for having her license. And who was rich enough to have car at sixteen? Sure, Adora was technically now also a beneficiary of the Brightmoon family fortune, but at least she recognizes how over-the-top that is. Bow runs ahead of her to call shotgun, and the three pile into the purple buggy.

“What do you think this year will be like?” Asks Bow, sounding excessively cheerful for the morning after the end of their brief respite from high school. They’re headed to school far earlier than most of Etheria High, to Glimmer’s chagrin, as a result of Adora and Bow’s early-morning extracurriculars.

Glimmer turns in her seat to roll her eyes at Bow. “Probably awful, like high school always is.”

“Hey!!” Exclaims Adora, at the same time as Bow sputters, “car safety!” Glimmer rolls her eyes again, at the road this time.

“But,” Bow continues, “our B.F.F. is Captain of the football team now! Which makes us,” here Bow pauses for emphasis, “Coolllll.”

“Nothing could ever make you cool, Bow,” Adora snickers.

“You won’t be saying that when I make lead violin this year!”

 

 

\-------------

 

 

“SEA HAWK SAYS I’M LEAD VIOLIN!” Bow yells in Adora’s ear, as she fails to hide behind the door of her locker.

“And yet, still hopelessly uncool!”

“Aww, I know you’re secretly proud,” Bow says, giving Adora a sparkling look cute enough that she tousles his head and admits, “sure I am. Now can we go to class?”

She and Bow had ended up in the same English class, with by far the coolest English teacher at Etheria High. Walking in, she waves at Ms. Nettossa, who she has a mild crush on, and Bow goes to the front to say hi, despite being a distinctly absent-minded student of literature (“I still don’t really know what English is,” he had whispered to Adora on their way.) Adora saves him a seat next to her in their favored second-row-by-the-window position, and moves to take out her notebook. She feels eyes on her, and turns to scan the room. She doesn’t know around half the people - Etheria High is huge, and keeping track of even just the people in her year is a Herculean task. She recognizes her friend Mermista a few rows behind her, painting her nails with a characteristic bored expression, and her on-and-off boyfriend Sea Hawk behind her brushing her hair, and two of her teammates laughing in the back row, and next to them…

Adora freezes. It’s Catra. Sitting at the back of the classroom is her best friend, all messy brown hair and freckled brown skin, mismatched eyes locked on Adora.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like comment subscribe චᆽච


	2. Apologize

It had been pathetically easy to ditch the peppy member of the welcoming committee assigned to guide Catra through her first day at Etheria High. She suffered alone through the first two of her classes, which had been boring as hell, just discussions of the syllabus. And everyone else already had friends, of course, so she really did spend the whole time alone doodling at the back of the classrooms. Not that Catra needed friends - even back in Horde High she’d been mostly a loner, never close to the other kids stuck in Hordak’s foster home, never a people-pleaser like Adora had naturally been, but at least there she’d had a ragtag group of punks and stoners she could sneak out of class to share a blunt with and hang out with during lunch.

Now she slips into her English class early to snag a seat at the back. As she kicks her feet up onto the seat in front of her, two muscle-bound jocks drop into the seats next to her, talking about the “epic party” they had evidently attended the previous night. God, she really wishes she could afford a walkman so she could tune out wastes of air like this.

Catra looks away from them, scanning the room for anyone interesting. Then, through the open door, a tall, blonde girl walks into the classroom, looking like she owns it. Faces turn to her, and it isn’t until the jocks next to Catra yell “YO, Adora!” that she processes what she’s seeing.

Adora was taller - so tall now, maybe six feet, and her hair had lightened and she’d shaved it on the sides (but kept the ponytail, Catra noted), and she was so fucking buff, and… Catra didn’t know what to do with her feelings; the shock, disbelief, joy, anger, and a rush of intense attraction. Two years ago, Catra would have run to Adora. Now, she schooled her features into the fierce glare she often practiced in the mirror. She would not let Adora think Catra needed her, not allow herself to forgive her. She latched onto her anger like a lifeline.

 

\--------------------

 

3 YEARS AGO

 

“You’re being idiotic, Catra! I haven’t abandoned you! You can always run away and join me, you don’t need to stay there!”

“I’m the idiotic one?! You’re suggesting I break the law and become homeless - what, to follow you wherever you go like a fucking baby duck?! You’re the one who promised we’d stay together,” Catra was yelling, knowing she sounded desperate, trying not to let Adora hear the tears that were scratching at the back of her throat.

Now Adora started yelling too. “You _could_ leave, and I wouldn’t - you - maybe if you weren’t so rude and cruel to everyone then you would have gotten adopted too!”

There was a silence. Catra felt like Adora had thrust a knife into her guts. “Fuck you, Adora. Don’t bother calling. I don’t need you, and I don’t _want_ your bullshit excuse for a family.” Catra slammed the phone down as the sobs escaped. She ignored the phone calls that came in for the rest of that day. And then, a few days later, the calls stopped coming.

 

\---------------------

 

PRESENT

Adora’s heart accelerates as their eyes meet. She doesn’t really register that Catra is glaring - she feels like part of herself has been returned to her. Acting purely on impulse, no coherent thoughts forming in her mind, she yells, “ _CATRA_!” and runs to embrace her.

Catra flees.

 

\----------------------

 

3 YEARS AGO

Adora never meant to stop calling Catra. For months, she called nearly every day, sure each time that this would be the day Catra finally responded. But slowly, she started calling less and less frequently. Gave up hope. She wrote Catra long letters, professing devotion and regret. No response. She almost convinced herself to ask her new foster mom to buy her an airplane ticket back to Horde, but kept hesitating out of knot of dark and muddled fears lodged in her stomach (facing Shadow Weaver, being rejected permanently by the person she loves most, angering her foster family…)

Adora never really adjusted to her first foster home after growing up in the home run by Hordak and his wife Shadow Weaver. The Gold family was friendly, but Adora’s disciplined reserve and fixation on calling her old foster home threw them off. After a few months, she was transferred, to a new state across the country, even farther from Catra. The Brightmoons.

At first Adora was reserved with them as well. Only thirteen, but acting like a small adult, Adora spent most of her time outside of school going on long runs or writing longer letters to Catra.

Slowly, though, with Angella’s patient and persistent motherliness and the equally stubborn kindness of Glimmer and her friend Bow pushing at Adora’s defenses, she began to open to them She came to care for Glimmer and her mom, and in a moment of painful clarity she realized that what she had experienced in the Hordak home was abuse. Angella persuaded her to go to therapy, and even as Adora healed she thought of Catra, with a sense of guilt that came and went in sharp waves. The phone number no longer worked, but she still sent the letters, though she’d stopped truly hoping for a response.

She had sent her last letter two days before she saw Catra again.

 

\--------------------

 

Catra spent the school day after running away from English class distracted and angry at everything (especially Adora, but also the world in general and herself for not letting Adora come to her), dodging through the hallways of the school like a spy in a bad Cold War thriller, eyes flickering around with paranoia. She takes her lunch out to below the bleachers, a surefire way to meet whoever the lowlifes of Etheria High happen to be.

Out beneath the bleachers, Catra eyes the girl who seems to be dominating the underworld found there (about 30 people in varied types of attire, which all scream “I think I’m too cool for this, please think I’m too cool for this,” - not that Catra isn’t hypocritical for judging). They seem to be milling around her, and Catra watches her reach out her hand and be handed a blunt without even having to ask. The girl is about as tall as Adora has become, and possibly even buffer, with dyed-white hair in an undercut. Unlike Adora, who had been wearing a red-and-white letterman and looking like a real prep, this chick is dressed in black, with matching lips and a red belt. Disconcertingly, she also smiles from ear to ear and chortles - fucking chortles - at something said to her.

Catra walks up to her, pointedly swaggering with her thumbs looped through the belt loops of her dark ripped jeans.

“Hey there, what’s your name?” Catra purrs, trying to sound sultry and confident. If this girl isn’t gay, Catra will eat her leather bracelet; and making a good impression on the apparent Queen Bee of the lowlifes would skyrocket Catra to a position of power and protection.

 

It works almost too well. By the end of the lunch period, not only has Scorpia (who is not actually a Scorpio, Catra learns) seemingly chosen Catra as her new best friend, she’s also begging Catra to be part of her fucking band.

Catra agrees. Not that she likes Scorpia, but… she has always wanted to put her guitar skills into action, and besides it’s something to do. She can’t spend all her time in the record store where she found work over the summer, and God knows she doesn’t want to stay at home.

As she walks to the next class, followed by Scorpia (like a puppy more than a scorpion, Catra thinks) Catra asks, feigning a casual interest, “have you heard of someone named Adora? I met her in one of my classes…”

“Oh, yeah, for sure! She’s the captain of the football team! Kind of the school’s princess, if you know what I mean.”

Catra did. It was just like Adora to succeed like that, without even trying, like Catra never could. She’d escaped, and now she was the fucking star of the school, and beautiful, and surrounded by admirers, and part of Catra really did hate her for that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi my name is Catra Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way and I look like a fucking cat (that's how I got my name) with a mane that reaches my mid-back and one turkoise eye and one lemon and a lot of people tell me I look like Joan Jett (AN: if u don't know who she is get da hell out of here!). I'm not related to her but I wish I was because she's a major fucking hottie. I'm a catgirl so my teeth are sharp and bity. I have hazel skin with stripes. I'm also a dyke, and I go to a shitty high school in Etheria where I'm in the third year (I'm sixteen). I'm a punk (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly maroon. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a maroon vest over a red button up will rolled sleeves, black leather pants and no shoes. I was walking outside. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of preps stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.
> 
> "Hey Catra!" shouted a voice. I looked up. It was... Adora!
> 
> (sorry for that)
> 
> I had a burst of inspiration which is why I'm posting the 2nd chapter already. Thank you everyone who showed support ʘ̥ꀾʘ̥
> 
> By the way, this is ostensibly set in the 80s but I'm really not committing to that in anything but aesthetic. Also the reason why Adora has an undercut is that A) the sides of her head have always looked weirdly flat to me with that top mohawk puff and B) I'm gay.


	3. Gravel to Tempo

Adora didn’t answer the torrent of questions Bow started asking after Catra ran away. She promised she’d explain later, and went through the rest of the school day on autopilot, hoping to see Catra again, not sure what she’d do if she did. Football practice is, at least, an opportunity to release some of the tension built up in her over the day. She pushes her team almost as hard as she pushes herself, trying to run fast enough and throw things hard enough that it fills her head. The boys complain, sure, but Adora doesn’t need or want a reputation as an  _ easy  _ captain. As she leaves, the coach gives her an approving nod, and Adora feels the reliable endorphin rush which is the reason she loves football.

 

But as she walks away from the gym and toward the car where Glimmer and Bow are waiting, the thoughts of Catra and the conflicted pain come rushing back. 

“So…” Glimmer says, after Adora buckles her seat belt with dread. Bow pipes up, “will you tell us now why you scared that girl out of our third period?”

 

Adora stares resolutely out the window. “Remember when I told you guys I had a best friend growing up in Horde? That was her. And no, I don’t know how, but she’s here.”

 

“Wait, really?” Glimmer says. “What’s her name? You never mentioned.”

 

Before Adora can reply, Bow says, “it’s  _ Catraaa _ !”, mimicking Adora’s call from earlier. Adora glares.

 

“But why did she run away?” Glimmer asks.

 

“Probably because she hates me now.” Adora says, trying to hold herself together. 

 

Bow’s expression switches suddenly from amusement to concern, and he reaches out over the top of the passenger seat to grab Adora’s hand comfortingly. “Oh god, Adora, I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to-”

 

“No, it’s okay, I can talk about it. About her. I should’ve already told you, it’s just… when I left, Catra was furious at me for abandoning her. We got into an argument, and I - I said stupid things, and then she wouldn’t let me apologize. I haven’t spoken to her in three years.” Here Adora’s voice breaks a little, and Bow squeezes her hand. “I shouldn’t have tried to hug her, it was stupid - I wasn’t  _ thinking _ . I knew she was still mad. She’s been rejecting every attempt I make to reach out for years, it was idiotic to think it might be any different in person, god.”

 

Bow says, very gently, “it’s not your fault, Adora.”

 

Glimmer nods vigorously. “You were only a kid, and you didn’t have any power to get her out of there, and you’ve clearly tried your best not to abandon her, like, emotionally. You clearly still care a lot about her.”

 

Adora closes her eyes. She has to do something about this. Glimmer isn’t wrong - she had tried to apologize - but she never did return to Catra. She knows, has known for a while now, how abusive and horrible Shadow Weaver and the realities of the foster home had been, and she hadn’t saved Catra. She needed to make up for that.

 

She says, “I’m going to fix this. I’ll win her back.”

 

Bow grins and says “yeah!!!” and Glimmer makes eye contact with her in the mirror, raising her eyebrows.

 

“Uh, we support you one hundred and ten percent Adora, but are you sure you and Catra were…  _ just  _ friends?”

 

Adora sputters.

 

“I’m just saying, this kind of sounds like a bitter ex-girlfriend scenario!” Glimmer persists, as Bow starts cracking up. 

 

“I - you - if you weren’t driving this car, Glimmer, I swear to god!”

 

Glimmer giggles too. “Fine, fine, I’ll drop it. For now. But tell us more about Catra!”

 

“Yeah,” Bow continues enthusiastically, “it’ll help us be better wingmen!”

  
  
  
  


\-------------------------

  
  
  
  


After school, Catra goes to the record store where she’d started working, which has the benefit of being a place where she can listen to the music she can’t at the home or anywhere else. Patti Smith, the Slits, Joy Division, Pink Floyd, the New York Dolls… she’s always found that something about music, especially punk rock, elevates her harbored fear and anger and loneliness into something she can almost enjoy, something that is beautiful while the music lasts. It’s not that music has ever solved her problems (if anything, the process of seeking out music has gotten Catra into even more trouble with Shadow Weaver) but punk rock has helped her maintain the strength to fight back, in her mind if nowhere else, and a place where she can withdraw from her life. Catra loves the scratchy screams and the whine of guitars and the pulsing rhythm of drums, loves the promise of rebellion.

 

Today she grabs a record by the Smiths and turns up the volume as high as she can without risking getting fired. She feels a rush of gratitude for Morrissey and his ability to express pain. He’s so right… she’s  _ already  _ waited too long, and all her hope  _ is  _ gone… he knows how it feels…

 

The customer taps her on the shoulder, and Catra opens her eyes with a glare equally as annoyed as the one the middle-aged man holding an Elton John record is giving her. “How can I help you, sir?” She grits out.

  
  


On the way home, Catra drags her feet. It’s late at night - the sun has set, and if she were still in Horde, thousands of miles away now, she’d be able to see the stars. She and Adora used to look at the stars together. Adora knew all the constellations, because she was a nerd and liked to go to the library and check out books on that kind of shit, and Catra liked to try to make her laugh by making up her own constellations. They’d sneak out to the roof with their blankets, sit close to each other for warmth, and… Catra needs to stop fucking thinking about Adora. She should think about almost anything else.

 

She thinks about what she’ll do tomorrow. She has to go to her English class, unfortunately, because A) Adora can’t know she got under Catra’s skin, B) if she fails it Shadow Weaver will kill her (the bitch has never expected Catra to do well, not like she used to expect Adora to, but having kids who fail in school looks bad for a foster home) and C) it would be nice to not actually fail out of her classes, since Catra  _ would  _ like a future that doesn’t involve selling drugs and/or McNuggets. 

 

So it’s decided. She’ll go to class and just ignore Adora. She’ll keep saving up for money from work, she’ll… be in this stupid band for a while...  and she’ll graduate in less than two years and leave Shadow Weaver behind forever. She’ll go to law school and get a cushy internship with Hordak, and she’ll break that glass ceiling and become more successful than anyone ever thought she could be, and then it won’t matter that her best friend left her just like everyone else always has.

  
  


The new house Hordak purchased for his foster home is sleek and modern, disturbingly similar to their old house. It’s also spotlessly clean, with a manicured rectangle of green lawn out front. Catra doesn’t remember when she first realized that Hordak kept her and the other children as props to improve his public image - it’s always been a fact of her life, right next to the knowledge that Shadow Weaver hates her and her family abandoned her. Still, Catra’s never despised Hordak the way she does his wife. For one thing, he’s never been around as much as she has to torment Catra. At least Hordak makes his motivations and expectations clear - he wants them to look like good, model children, and if they show promise he may use them further to advance his ambitions. He doesn’t leave Catra dodging unexpected attacks like Shadow Weaver, he doesn’t abandon her after promising he’d stay with her,  and she appreciates that she knows what to expect from him. 

 

But, of course, Hordak isn’t there when Catra returns. Lonnie and Rogelio are sitting at the shining granite counter in the kitchen playing some card game, and Kyle is sitting inexplicably on the floor, reading some undoubtedly boring book. When Catra walks in Lonnie turns to her with a look of bored malice. 

 

“Heard you saw Adora again today. Was it everything you ever dreamed?”

 

Catra sneers. “I don’t give a shit about Adora.”

 

“Oh yeah? Is that why you still wear her old clothes?” Lonnie mocks. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed.”

Catra glares at her, and then at Rogelio and Kyle for good measure, before stalking upstairs. Fucking Lonnie, she always thinks she knows everything. 

  
  
  
  


\----------------------

  
  
  


Week one is Stage One. Adora goes with Bow to the flower shop where their friend Perfuma works, and they buy bouquets. Perfuma guarantees the bouquets have meanings of devotion, remorse, and friendship, and Adora highly doubts Catra knows flower language but Bow insists they’re better off safe than sorry. Glimmer trails Catra to find out where her locker is, and every morning that week Adora leaves a bouquet duct taped to Catra’s locker. 

 

“It’s a great plan!” Perfuma coos. “Everyone loves flowers!”

 

Adora, Bow, and Glimmer, meeting at the spot under the tree on the campus lawn where they always eat lunch, reflect on the results of Stage One. It has been, they agree, a mixed bag.

 

“Okay, but,” Glimmer says, “remember on day two Bow saw her look at the flowers wistfully before she threw them away! And it’s only been four days, maybe with persistence we can wear down her defenses.”

 

“That was hearsay,” Adora retorts, “no offense Bow, but you’re too much of a romantic to be a reliable source on that. No, we need a new strategy.”

 

“I saw what I saw!” Bow slams his hand on the ground dramatically.

 

“Letters in her locker?” Glimmer proposes. “No, scratch that, you said you’ve already tried letters.”

 

“Public declaration of love?” Bow suggests.

 

Adora shakes her head sharply. “Public confessions are  _ not  _ Stage Two material, Bow. No… I think you’re partly right, Glimmer. I’ll leave a note asking her to meet me behind the school. But I’ll need bait.”

  
  
  


\--------------------------

  
  


 

Scorpia insists she isn’t leaving the bouquets. Catra was pretty sure it was Lonnie playing a mean joke, but Lonnie seemed genuinely confused when Catra confronted her. Which means either Catra is way more irresistable than she thought, or this is… Adora. 

 

She tries not to think about it. Adora abandoned her, Catra won’t let herself forgive her after a couple forget-me-knots. 

 

The first band practices go well. The other girl Scorpia has drafted into being her drummer, a purple-haired geek named Entrapta, is equally as weird as Scorpia, which just means Catra steps naturally into the role of leader of the band. Scorpia, somewhat surprisingly, is actually a really good singer - her voice goes deep and honeyed, and she can croon like Frank Sinatra when she tries. On the downside, Catra is going to be the one who has to write songs if she doesn’t want them to stay an ABBA cover band for the entire year. (Scorpia really, really loves ABBA. And Catra had pegged her as goth, good god.) 

 

On Saturday, after a blissfully flower-free morning, Catra sits behind the counter of the empty record store with an equally empty notebook on her lap. She taps out a tune on the floor with her heavy boots, and starts to write.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really should be writing an essay for my Politics 160 class, smh. Thank you all for the support, I hope you like this chapter, and I do take constructive criticism / suggestions!
> 
> Obligatory cat emoji: ฅ•ω•ฅ


End file.
